The Lord of the Seas - An Isekai Progression Fantasy [ Currently on Volume 2 ]

Styx stirred in the quiet hours just after dawn, the faint lavender glow of the mana-light casting soft lines across the stone ceiling above their bed. For a moment, she simply lay there, arms folded gently beneath her head, her senses drinking in the familiar warmth that always lingered beside her. But as her eyes fluttered open, the source of that warmth was gone.

The Goddess blinked, rubbing the grogginess from her eyes. The covers were cold to her left. Lukas wasn't there. Still half-drowsy, she sat up, long flowing hair tumbling over her shoulders as a frown creased her lips. Perhaps he'd woken early. It wouldn't be the first time. Lukas had always struggled with sleep—even after all these years, that part of him had never changed.

But something about his absence felt different this time.

Slipping into her robes, Styx padded barefoot through the halls of Kairos Castle, her steps echoing faintly off stone polished smooth by time and memory. She checked the kitchen first, expecting to find him there whisking something at a ridiculous hour, humming off-key like he always did. Instead she found the kitchen empty, the pans clean and cold.

She searched the training yard next—still empty, untouched since the night Lukas promised her that he would no longer need to fight.

Her frown deepened. And then she sensed it, a familiar flow of energy: the Divinity of the Seas.

Styx descended the winding staircase that led to the castle's lowest level, the old cavernous antechamber that had once served as a place of audience for guests. It had long been abandoned by the first inhabitants of this Castle.

But today…the entire hall had been transformed.

A banquet table stretched from wall to wall, long enough to host a hundred, yet warm and intimate with its arrangement of glowing candles, hanging lights, and illusionary stars floating lazily through the air. Fine linens embroidered with gold thread covered the tables, and plates upon plates were stacked high with food.

Steak cooked to perfection and golden crisp fries, the first meal they ever ate together.

The thick, comforting aroma of Japanese curry—Lukas' first attempt to cook it for her had been a disaster, but by the tenth, it had became one of her favourite dishes to eat.

There were roasts basted in rich glazes, delicate noodles, fresh-baked sourdough, pickled vegetables just the way she liked them, spiced apple pies, honey cakes, and a perfectly risen soufflé that had taken the duo weeks to perfect.

Every dish was a memory. Every flavour, a moment they had shared.

The flickering lights above reflected off crystalline goblets filled with her favorite wines and teas.

Above it all, waves hung suspended as they flowed across the ceiling, displaying scenes of all the places they had spoken about visiting one day. All the worlds that they would some day explore.

Lukas stood at the head of the banquet table, radiant in a tailored obsidian suit etched with the symbol of the Drakos Household. The suit fit him perfectly, down to every fold and stitch; a far cry from the worn tunics he usually wore. His shoulders were squared, his jaw clean-shaven, his dark hair combed back yet still tousled in that way Styx always found endearing.

The Goddess stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, eyes wide, heart caught in the space between wonder and grief. Wonder at this hall that Lukas had prepared for her and the grief from knowing that...this would be their final day together.

Lukas smiled as he extended his hand toward her. "May I have this dance?" he asked.

Styx blinked once, then stepped forward. Her bare feet touched the polished black marble floor, and with the first step, a quiet ripple of magic flowed out from her like an unseen tide. Her sleeping gown shimmered, unwinding like threads of midnight wind. In its place bloomed a gown of deepest black, so smooth it looked poured from liquid moonlight.

The fabric hugged her frame before spilling down into endless folds that drifted just above the floor, the hem etched with constellations that sparkled like real stars. Her hair fell in waves down her back, dark with hints of violet, crowned with a circlet of woven silver leaves that hadn't been there a moment before.

She was breath-taking.

Lukas exhaled, stunned despite himself. "You're beautiful," he murmured, barely audible over the hush of candlelight.

"And you," she said, smiling faintly as she took his hand, "have no idea how long I've wanted to see you in a suit just like that."

The moment their hands touched, music stirred from the air itself. Not a harp. Not a violin. Not anything made by mortal hands. It was a melody born of flowing water, of the wind that blew through trees, the quiet hum of ancient magic. Ethereal, wistful—a harmony so old, older than Styx herself.

It was a song of farewell.

Lukas held her close. One hand at her waist. The other at her shoulder blade. Their feet began to move together in perfect silence, the music guiding them through a slow, sorrowful waltz. They swayed as the candlelight danced around them, as the stars above shimmered like ancient eyes watching quietly from the heavens.

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There were no more words between them. None were needed.

They had said all they needed to say in a thousand ways—in hours spent together, in the meals they cooked, the long silences shared beneath the stars, in the way she whispered his name when she thought he was lost forever.

This was their final song. This was their last dance. And Lukas would cherish every single second of it.

The wind was quiet in the training yard. A hush had fallen over the castle grounds, as if the very stones and walls of Kairos knew what was coming. As if they, too, were holding their breath.

Lukas and Styx stood side by side, gazing up at the hourglass before them. Only a few grains remained, swirling in lazy arcs above the narrowing centre. It had been a thousand years. Four Flips of the Hourglass.

There wouldn't be a Fifth.

The final grain fell. The hourglass pulsed once with a soft thrum of completion, and the light within it faded gently to stillness. A silence followed. Long and unbroken.

Then Styx stepped forward, her voice solemn yet warm—a voice full of pride, even love.

"Lukas Drakos, Dragon Lord of Linemall's Seas," she declared, his title carrying on the wind. "You have completed the Trials of Kairos Castle."

She turned to him, her divine form cloaked now beneath her softer silhouette, though the weight of her power was ever-present.

"For this… you shall be rewarded. As the Mistress of Kairos Castle, it is within my authority to grant a single wish to the one who has withstood the tests of Time."

Lukas blinked. For a moment, he said nothing. He had not come seeking a reward. But as the weight of her offer settled in his chest, he knew his answer without hesitation.

"Then I ask for this," he said quietly. "Strengthen my body. Strengthen this vessel such that I may be able to better protect my people."

"So be it," she said with a nod.

With a gesture, divine light swirled around her palms. Ethereal patterns formed in the air—ancient and holy. The magic surged outward, weaving around Lukas like a cloak made of radiant tides.

"This is the Mantle of the Lords," she declared. "A final gift for the one who rose above even the legends of old."

The wind shifted—and the magical energy converged all around him. Lukas felt it as it settled over him, wrapping his form. Dark oceanic blues and silver crests shimmered across his shoulders, like ink on his skin. Embroidered threads of starlight ran down his arms, and along his collarbone bore the symbol of the waves—proud, eternal.

The power settled deep into his body, fusing into his very blood and bone.

Styx's voice grew stronger, resonating through the air.

"No status effects may touch you now. No poison, disease or curse inflicted upon you will do you harm. You are immune. And above all," Styx continued, "your scales have been transformed. They have been granted the power of a Single Reflection."

Lukas raised an eyebrow. She was being a little generous, not that he was complaining.

"An attack," she explained, "regardless of its nature—elemental, physical or divine—shall be turned back upon those who wish you harm. As if struck by their own hand. No matter how fast, no matter how far."

She stepped toward him, laying a hand gently over his heart.

But before the moment could fully pass, Styx moved even closer to Lukas, her being shifting into something more vulnerable. Not the Mistress of Kairos Castle now. Not the Goddess of Unbreakable Oaths that even the gods came to fear. Just the woman he'd fallen in love with.

She held out a small glass bottle, stoppered with obsidian and bound in silver thread. The liquid within shimmered with soft currents of light and shadow; dark as ink, but glinting like moonlight on black water.

"This is water from the River Styx," she explained quietly, "drawn from my domain. When you use it with a quill on any parchment, the ink will behave normally. But the words you write will not stay confined to that page. They will reach me. So that you may write me letters...if you wish. And when the bottle grows warm—when it shimmers in your hand—that means I'm writing back. If you splash the ink across any blank parchment while it's warm, my words will form on the page. As if I'm writing them before your eyes."

Styx let out a nervous laugh, her gaze falling to the floor for a brief second. She looked up at him again, softer now. This was a personal gift, meant not for the dragon who had succeeded these Trials but for the man she had come to care to deeply for.

"It's not…much. But it means we'll still have a way. Even if you never see me again. Even if this…truly is goodbye." Her voice trembled just slightly at the end and yet she continued to smile.

Lukas took the bottle from her trembling hands, and for a heartbeat, all he did was look at her—his eyes burning with something fierce, something endless.

Then he kissed her. Hard. His arms wrapped around her like a man holding on to his very soul, as if letting go would undo him. Her hands rose instinctively to his chest, his shoulders, the side of his face—needing to feel that he was still there, still hers.

Lukas didn't pull away from her for a long time. And when he did, his forehead rested against hers. Their breaths mingled in the stillness, time pausing just long enough for them to remember what they had found in each other.

"I love you," Lukas said to her, his voice raw and unshaken. "More than you will ever know."

Her breath caught, a small sob cracking in her throat.

"You are my anchor," he whispered. "In every life I could ever live, in every form I could ever take—I will never find anyone like you. You said that...you didn't know whether I would find somebody in the living world. You weren't sure if I would ever to return to you. I am telling you now, Styx. I am sure of this. I belong to you."

Lukas took her hand and placed it over his heart.

"I swear this Oath not on the River Styx. But to her. I swear this Oath to you." he said, eyes locked to hers. His voice trembled with reverence, as if speaking before the oldest truth he'd ever known. "I swear that I will return to you, no matter what it takes. I swear it, Styx. I swear it."

"Then I shall oversee this Oath and hope on all that it is true that you keep it." Her eyes were glossy with tears that would never fall, but she leaned in, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, "You are mine…and I am yours."

Then, the hourglass flared with ancient light.

The divine magic of Kairos Castle surged one final time.

And Lukas Drakos—Lord of the Seas—faded from the Underworld, his soul slipping through the walls of time and memory.

Returning at last, to the land of the living.